


Living

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort is dead and Harry wants to live life to the fullest. Seems like a night on the town is in order...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living

The last time they’d gone to Homoelectric at Follies on Whitworth Street in the Manchester Gay Village, Kingsley Shacklebolt had accompanied them. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order had insisted that an Auror or some sort of Order member followed Harry around to make sure he was safe. That had been nearly a year ago. 

There wasn’t a need for bodyguards or watchdogs anymore. Harry was finally free to go wherever he liked in the wizarding world and not have to report to anyone about what he was doing and where he was going. Voldemort was dead. He,thanks to Hermione and Ron’s help along the way, had finally managed to defeat Voldemort a mere month ago. The days after Voldemort’s demise all sort of jumbled together. Ministry officials and Order members scoured the countryside and the most obscure nooks and crannies from London to what seemed like the moon and back again to ensure that they had indeed captured Voldemort’s most staunch supporters and effectively stoppered up any notions of rebellion. The Death Eaters were no more. Mostly. Harry was pretty sure that there were probably a few people here and there in hiding, trying to evade capture and punishment for any deeds supporting the Dark Lord that they had committed. Let them. That was his philosophy. For now, he wasn’t going to fucking worry about them. He could do that later. 

Presently he was going to focus on just _living_. Being _just_ Harry, not The Boy Who Lived or any of that rot. He was going to just be himself and do the things he wanted. And what he wanted more than anything in the world right then and there was to just have a good time with Tony in this kitschy club. With its velvet curtains and vintage Muggle erotica lining the walls, the Homoelectric felt like a world away to Harry. He didn’t mind at all escaping here. It was just as brilliant as he remembered it to be; the barkeep fit and friendly, the music loud and pumping. The last time he’d been there, he and Tony had a blast - even with the likes of Kingsley Shacklebolt keeping watch over them. 

But now there was no one to watch over them and they didn’t have to worry about being rather chaste with how they burnt off some of their energy. And was Harry ever grateful for that.

“Come on,” Tony yelled over the pulsing beat, grabbing hold of Harry’s hand and guiding him through a sea of sweaty, grinding, mostly half-naked blokes over to a darker, less-crowded area of the club.

Grinning, Harry turned his wrist over in Tony’s grasp, curling his fingers around the heel of Tony’s palm and settling his hand on Harry’s arse. Fortunately for Harry, Tony was a rather quick one, squeezing him and pulling Harry against him without any prompting whatsoever. Chuckling, Harry pressed against him even more, placing his own hands on Tony’s arse and reciprocating the squeeze. The beat changed, a more primal tempo thumping all around them. Instinctively they began to move together, hands on one another, holding on tight. 

It was warm in the room. 

Hell, it was _stifling_. He could feel the sweat slick on his face, on his skin. Every move he made caused his shirt to stick against him more. It was driving him mad but he wasn’t about to take his shirt off like the good lot of other blokes around him. They were fit and he was– well, he was still on the scrawny side. At least, he thought he was scrawny. He blamed his self-perceived puniness on the Dursleys. If they hadn’t practically malnourished him, maybe he’d be half as fit as some of these other blo–

“What’re you doing?” he yelled suddenly in Tony’s ear, the last word turning into a moan as Tony rolled his hips against Harry’s. It almost distracted him from the fact that Tony’s hands were no longer on his arse but on the hem of his shirt instead. 

Tony shifted slightly and, next thing Harry knew, lipped Harry’s earlobe, tugging at it with his teeth. “What do you think I’m doing?” he replied, one hand definitely pushing up Harry’s shirt.

“Tony,” Harry protested, “not here I--”

And just like that, Tony let go of him and stepped back, almost bumping into some bloke trying to manouvre around them to get to the bar. 

_Oh. Oh no. What did I–_

Harry frowned. He shouldn’t have stopped Tony; it wasn’t like he didn’t want his boyfriend’s hands on him. He just– he was a little self-conscious, was all.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed, reaching a hand out to brush his fingertips across the back of one of Tony’s hands.

Tony barely seemed to notice this, for he was too busy looking this way and that to take much notice.

“Tony?”

Tony turned toward him and grabbed hold of his hand again, tightly this time. 

“Shut your gob,” he said coolly, tugging him toward a garish red velvet curtain.

“What--”

“Quiet,” Tony ordered, parting the curtain and revealing a small, dark back room. He leaned in and spoke in Harry’s ear again, warm breath tickling Harry’s cheek. “Get in there.” He gave Harry a helpful push on the shoulder blades.

Stumbling over a shallow step, Harry took a moment to regain his balance before trying to see what the room looked like. He gave up after a moment; it was much too dark to make out anything other than a few random shapes here and there. He couldn’t hear much, either, as the music from the dance floor was fed via speakers into this room as well. 

Just as he’d begun to get a bit oriented to the lighting, he found himself being divested of his shirt and discovered that, although he was very warm, the wall was cold and hard against his back. 

He grinned. “Mmmm, a bit eager, are we?” he teased, rolling his bare shoulders back and digging into the wall a bit.

Tony ground against him in response and Harry could feel his erection hard against his thigh.

“I’ll say you are,” he answered his own question, pushing hiships back against Tony’s.

Tony smirked, a dimple showing in one cheek. That dimple always got to Harry. Drove him absolutely fucking _mad_. Tony was a fit bloke, a nice-looking bloke. No one would ever suspect that he was a right forceful bastard like he was when it came to sex. The dimple through people off the track. But Harry knew better. That dimple meant trouble. Trouble for him. Not that he minded in the least.

“Shut. Up,” Tony ordered, leaning his forehead against Harry’s, staring at him hard. “Don’t talk. Don’t do anything unless I tell you.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes and arching his hips up in invitation. Now _this_ was about as far from chaste as you could get and as close to just _living_ as Harry wanted. He’d do anything Tony told him to do. He’d do anything for him as long as it felt like pure, unbridled _living_

There was a bit of fumbling; Harry could feel and hear Tony rearranging some of both of their clothing. The heavy air felt really fucking brilliant on his cock. So good, in fact, that he nearly cried out when Tony freed it from the confines of his pants. He felt himself being lifted and then pushed against the wall once more. ‘Wrap your legs around me,” Tony breathed in his ear. Harry didn’t have to be told twice. He did as commanded and panted when he felt Tony’s cock slide against his. Then fingers curled around his cock, pulling it against Tony’s, the fingers loosening enough to grip them both together. 

_Oh fucking hell-_

Squeezing and sliding and thumb moving over the tip, pressing against the slit and pushing around the little pearls of pre-come over him, over Tony’s own prick. 

Harry felt dizzy, absolutely dizzy. His legs loosened their hold on Tony and he was punished for doing so by having a nipple bit. 

Tony’s teeth nipped at him, tugging on the skin and laving it gently before really applying the pressure. Harry yelped, his cock twitching in Tony’s hand.

“Naughty,” Tony said in a sing-song voice, running a hand over Harry’s hip and around to cup his arse. “Very naughty.” 

Harry nodded in agreement and then cried out, two fingers unexpectedly pressing deep inside him. 

“That’s it,” Tony said hoarsely, crooking his fingers in Harry, pressing further against and in him. A low groan escaped Harry’s lips; he couldn’t help it. He thrust back against Tony’s hand, eyes flying open and holding his lover’s gaze. He said nothing because he had not been permitted to do so. Instead, he communicated what he wanted by tightening his legs around Tony’s waist again, helpfully pulling himself up as much as he could and rubbing their chests together. Tony complied by adding yet another finger, leaning in and running his tongue along Harry’s lower lip, paying close attention to the corners of his mouth. 

“Here,” Tony murmured, presenting his palm to Harry’s mouth. “Lick it.”

Harry did as requested, taking pains to work his tongue across every last bit of Tony’s hand, following the lines in Tony’s hand with the tip of his tongue, flicking it in between each finger, lapping up the salt and sweat and essence of Tony as best he could.

“That’s enough,” said Tony approvingly. 

His other hand still working and stretching Harry, Tony prepared himself with the hand that Harry had wet. Straining his ears, Harry could just make out the smooth sounds of Tony stroking his own cock, the bass from the music in the club causing the wall he was propped against to shake. 

Tony withdrew his hand from inside Harry and bent at the knees to angle himself, sliding into Harry slowly, rocking himself deeper and deeper inside with careful, steady thrusts. Harry moaned as Tony slid further inside, the moan turning into a wail as Tony sheathed himself fully, Harry’s balls only brushing against his cock briefly. It felt fucking fantastic, having Tony inside him like that. It was the best feeling in the world, a million times better than even seeing Voldemort’s dead body being taken away by Ministry officials. He grunted, feeling himself clench around Tony’s girth, and pushed his hips down hard. Tony responded by pulling back slowly and _slamming_ into him. Harry had no choice but to find purchase with his hands on Tony’s shoulders, desperately needing something to hold onto lest Tony tried to fuck him right through that wall or he fell off himself cos his bones were about to turn to jelly. 

His thighs clenched as Tony’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts speeding up, pushing against Harry’s prostrate. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to–

But Tony seemed to read his mind.

“You– can– come--” he grunted, screwing his eyes shut and pounding into Harry frantically. He must be close, Harry thought. 

Not as close as Harry, though. He screamed as Tony swiveled his hips and rammed into him harshly, a sudden white hot burst of liquid splashing against his chest.

Tony thrust once, twice, and a final, third time, riding out his own orgasm. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the wall just beside Harry’s head.

“All right, Harry?” he asked hoarsely. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “You can talk now, you know.”

“I’m brilliant,” Harry mumbled, reaching down and scooping up a sticky bit with one finger, offering it to Tony. Lifting his head off of the wall, Tony gave him a grin before sucking Harry’s digit down to the knuckle in his mouth, sucking on it as he would Harry’s cock. 

Harry trembled and then laughed, closing his eyes once more as Tony tended to his finger. “I’m _living_.”


End file.
